


Bugs, Taxes and other Cultural Differences

by Prinzenhasserin



Category: The Queen's Thief Series - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Case Fic, M/M, Platonic Bedsharing, Post-Canon, Road Trip, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-07 14:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11625129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prinzenhasserin/pseuds/Prinzenhasserin
Summary: The bedsharing was strange enough, but seeing Costis collecting bugs to cover up his activities for the Annex and showing such enthusiasm was almost unbearable. As were the long trecks over the rather unstable cliffs, the reports of Mede activity, and the lack of quality parchment.





	Bugs, Taxes and other Cultural Differences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spacehopper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/gifts).



> I’m not a hundred-percent certain any of this is in any way shape or form either historically accurate or canonically accurate, but I sure tried :D  
> I went around a couple of different directions, but finally settled on this, and I hope you enjoy!

Eugenides stretched back in his favourite chair in the furthest office from the kitchen, and held the letter that had just arrived via courier over his head, so he could read it without sitting up properly.

Attolia, still pale and wan, was watching him with tolerant disapproval.

"I should have sent them away sooner. Gods, they're adorable," Eugenides sighed, and let the letter he received fall down on the myriads of other papers in front of him.

He was greeted by the stares of diplomats and courtiers alike. He sent a helpless look to his Queen, and was greeted with a sardonically raised eyebrow.

"My dear," Attolia said, "maybe if you would focus on the proceedings and read the actual copies of the reports the time would pass faster, and you wouldn’t need to entertain yourself with —gossip."

Eugenides arranged himself to a slightly less relaxed slump, and sent the minister of agriculture who had talked for the last hour about the same issue without saying anything of substance a glare. "Yes, this is a truly riveting topic, do continue. Tell me more about Rhoa’s shortage on rice."

He almost slipped and feel down on his face, but caught the edge of the seat at the last minute.

The minister followed his fall with his eyes but didn’t dare voice his disapproval and instead continued, "—as I was saying, there’s a noticeable decline in ore coming through from Myagmar, a fact underlining the recent shortages of birch in the area, not enough to support the growing demand…"

Instead of listening, Eugenides stared at the small impression of a shell, and the bug pressed onto the parchment with some kind of tar. What kind of shenanigans were they getting into in Rhoa?

 

*** 

  
Kamet had hung his hammock in the dimmest corner, far away from the rowdier seamen, and right next to the scholar travelling to Mur. Costis took one look at the travelling arrangement, and then asked the midshipman for a two person hammock instead. Kamet wasn’t asked about this, and while a part of him was relieved, most of him felt ganged upon.

"You’d get cold," Costis said, apparently realising that Kamet wasn’t entirely on board with this change in circumstances. "And do you really want drunken sailors to stumble upon you, alone, in the dark?"

It seemed awfully unsociable of him, and didn’t even cover the Attolian stumbling over Kamet drunkenly, let alone sleeping in the same hammock, but Kamet didn’t argue. In the end, Kamet didn’t want anyone other than Costis stumbling over him when he was sleeping. The palace hadn’t helped in that way, Kamet was still searching foremost for the comforting statute of this man who had killed a bear with his bare hands. Even though neither the palace nor this ship had bears as far as he knew.

The small cabin smelt of sweat and saltwater and feet.The sea would be cold at night, and it would only grow colder in the coming months and travelling north. He agreed on the sleeping arrangements.

The first night, Kamet was uncomfortable, getting into the dangling moving bit of tarp. He had slept at the side of the Attolian often; during their daring escape from the Mede, but it had never been beside other people — nobody else had been present. Except there had been other people, hadn’t there been? Curiously enough, it had felt like they were alone, all the way, even with plenty of people aiding their escapes. Even so, while escaping the Mede Empire, the ground didn’t make it a habit of moving around, and while the desert rat had made an impression on Kamet’s stomach, the waves of the stormy weather made an even larger impression.

Costis didn't seem bothered, and when they first went to sleep at night, soon enough his breathing pattern eased. The way he fell asleep almost immediately was very calming. Kamet found that both comforting and because of aforementioned comfort, disconcerting.

Nevertheless, Kamet fell asleep faster on the boat next to the Attolian than in the diplomatic quarters of the palace, next to an entire battalion of Attolians.

Travelling with Costis and Kamet, more or less, but especially on the boat, was a merchant and his family travelling back to his home base on the Greater Peninsula. Also, a diplomatic envoy from the Duke of Ferria who had spent the last few months in Cimorene trying to suss out both Attolian military secrets and Mede movement patterns under the cover of mapping out the sea level, a group of blonde Slavs, a carpenter commissioned by a merchant conglomerate, and a group of men trying out their luck at other ports.

One evening, when they had anchored in the vicinity of Ferria, Costis asked, "What are you going to do, once we arrive in Roa?" It was slightly less inane than the other questions he asked at night, a sport he had started when they were still traversing the desert— Costis apparently liked to be told stories before sleeping. The day before, he had asked how come the Mede had so many words for the same type of dress, and had fallen asleep before Kamet finished explaining. Either, Costis had absorbed the answers in his sleep, or he wasn’t actually interested in the truthfulness of the answers, just that there were some.

Kamet had his eyes closed already, but opened them again. This was a different kind of question. Usually, he asked about myths, translations, words that meant the same or a slightly different thing, not something so directly relevant to their travel plans. Was he worried?

There was a dim light in the cabin, entering from the constant light on deck that marked them out to other boats, but he couldn’t see Costis. The hammock was slightly rocking with the motion of the ship.

"During the reconstruction work, the priests found ancient, delicate scrolls in their treasury, supposedly there’s a copy of Enoclitus’ Encyclopaedia of Natural Sciences. Fragments of it had been translated, but this is supposed to be a copy of the original which hasn’t survived the raid on the temple. It’s going to be a challenge, because not all the plants are endemic to the peninsula. It’s a classifying disaster, too — the chapter on bugs doesn’t even have spiders." Kamet continued explaining the necessary translation efforts, but after a while, when Costis didn’t hum in affirmation, he stopped. Costis was breathing quietly.

"Are you awake?" he asked quietly, but didn’t receive an answer.

Kamet turned back around, huddling closer to warmth, and thought of the Codex Naturalis and hoped he would be allowed to hold it in his hands.

During the day, Kamet chatted with the scholar from Ferria, who had boarded their boat in Cimorene where he had been mapping out shipping routes. He bemoaned the new alliance between Attolia and Ferria greatly, as he had been paid by the government. With the new treaty, the government had pulled their support, and he had to move himself and his entire family to a more immediate necessity. He would be going to Rhoa, also.

Kamet talked to him a lot, learned about the current and the tides, and how to watch out for places to avoid, while Costis was up on deck, carrying and moving stuff, helping to fix sails, and climbing in dizzying heights. He wasn’t talking much, again, but was friends with most of the sailors nevertheless.

At every port, Costis sent a letter back to Attolia. Kamet tried to read it once, but it was just two short sentences, and nothing about Ferria’s scholar or the gossip from the sailors Costis had befriended when Kamet was otherwise occupied.

Costis saw him looking, and said, "Aris doesn’t like to read." It was a baffling explanation as anything, and Kamet must have seemed confused, since Costis explained further, "My friend, Aristogiton. He learned to read late in his teens, and it doesn’t come easily to him. I promised to write him. He doesn’t really have anyone else left, and he really likes to receive letters but I always needed to read them…" He trailed off and shrugged.

Kamet felt a pang in his stomach. He wasn’t really sure why he thought Costis was writing to the Annex, and he hadn’t been envious of the King, but this strange friend who couldn’t read and who Costis had read to, was a different matter. It was strange to imagine Costis leaving someone like that behind, and it opened an interpretation of Costis’ character Kamet wasn’t sure he liked. Was he going to be left behind like that some day, too? It didn’t bear to imagine.

"I’m sure he’d like that," he managed, and tried to write the gossip into his own letter to the King instead.

*** 

By the time they arrived in Mur, Kamet got used to laying next to Costis so much that once they had arrived at the port of Mur, and the rough river grew too narrow to traverse safely, they switched to carts and carrions. At night, they shared a bedroll, since the nights further north were colder and Kamet was bothered less by Costis than other mercenaries.

"Your boy is very tall and strong," one of the merchant women told him. She was wrapped into the colourful scarves of the southern regions, usually for protection against the sand, but they worked to keep some of the heavy rain out of her face.

Kamet, Kay to the people they were travelling with, who probably wouldn’t connect him to a Mede slave in any case, but better safe than sorry, nodded. Costis had become his boy some ways back, and protest led to suspicion, so Kamet didn’t, anymore. In this case, one had to indulge people’s imagination.

"He takes care of you well," the woman continued.

Kamet nodded carefully.

She held out a leather satchel, tanned with the finest birch tar, all the way from the north — "For your boy," she said. "You tell very good stories, I enjoy."

"Thank you," Kamet said bewildered, and fingered the fine stitching of the satchel. It was very fine leather, of a quality worthy of Nahuseresh. Why would she just give it to him?

"My brother went to caravans, too. He and his shield brother…" she explained in a way that didn’t enlighten Kamet at all. She paused, and made a complicated gesture. "They can’t return… Take care of your boy."

Kamet didn’t understand what she was saying, but he could promise to take care of Costis. It was what he was going to do anyway. "I will," he said his voice more steadfast than he felt.

There was an indecipherable look in the woman’s eyes, pity mixed with — regret, almost, but she nodded and smiled at him. "I’m glad," she said, and looked radiant. She patted the satchel, and bent forward to say in a conspiring whisper, "Keep close — very good product." 

Then, later, she took him aside and asked him to inscribe a letter. Kamet relaxed, interpreting the actions of the woman as pure bartering technique, but even so — that the woman could pick up his obvious regard for Costis, and that he could be used as a successful bartering chip— Kamet put it out of his mind. He was Kay now, and nobody needed to use a bartering chip to get him to do anything. He was a travelling scholar after all.

Costis took more care of Kamet than the other way around in any case, Kamet felt. Costis was by far the nicest person Kamet had ever slept with. Sometimes, he brought back sweets or nuts from the cabin or the fireside, where he was silent and emotive at people, and in return they told him their stories and shared their food. And then, late at night, Costis would talk about what he had heard, would tell Kamet the stories. 

About the snake and the centipede, and how they had been friends before, only the snake had no eyes to see and the centipede no feet to walk. One day, the snake asked as a wedding gift, to borrow the eyes, so that he may look upon his wife. The centipede, who knew his friend well, would only let him borrow the eyes in exchange for his feet.

The snake looked at his new wife — she was very beautiful. He wanted to look at her forever. He kept the eyes.

And the centipede spent the rest of his years looking for his eyes with his many, many feet.

"What’s it supposed to teach?" Kamet asked. "Don’t trust your friends? Don’t lent out things you need?"

Costis shrugged. In the half-light of the moon and the flickering camp fire, Kamet could feel it more than he saw it. His skin glistened with a golden shimmer, and Kamet would not have lent him his eyes, even half-blind as they were.

"Maybe it’s not supposed to teach anything."

The moon, just slightly more tilted than back home, less like a chalice and more like a sickle, shone on undisturbed.

"Or maybe it’s about untrustworthy people always being untrustworthy; and the trustworthy can’t help themselves but to trust," Kamet said quietly. Costis was asleep already, his sleeping pattern now intimately known to him. In this scenario, Costis was always the trustworthy one; Kamet had already sold out one master. Was Costis his master, then? Was he a friend, who lent him his freedom and was therefore bound in chains? Was Costis volontarily risking life and limb for a slave he had barely known, for a free man that didn’t entirely feel free, or was Kamet, was the King, pressing him into service?

Kamet turned around and faced a sleeping Costis. Contrary to his own expectations, he slept as deep as ever, his travelling companion shielding him from the wind. 

***

The last few days before reaching their destination where spent pitifully. It had rained for the last few days, the skies pouring open and leaving them to traipse through boatfuls of mud. The caravan, starting out in Myagmar rather cheerfully, had turned quiet and miserable, each member bearing the terrible weather in their own way.

When they arrived in Rhoa, the sky turned blue on the sea, and the rain vanished as if it never had been there. The walkways were dry and even, and as soon as they were let into the gates of the town’s fortifications, a priest stood by waiting to welcome the travellers.

Rhoa was open, and a bubbling trade hubbub. The streets were filled with colourful people of different walks of life; different cultures and countries. Kamet recognised some people in the traditional clothes of the Mede, even with the recent trade embargo in place. There were horses, different sized and coloured; and the white-haired people from way up north, hanging about fishermen, and the southern nomads in their colourful scarves and wraps, chatting with the smaller round people originally from Rhoa. Kamet didn’t look so out of place as he had at the palace in Attolia, but neither did Costis like he had in Sidusia.

"Fresh Dorade!" a fishmonger yelled in front of his face, and Kamet had to jump back to avoid the wet, smelly paper that suddenly appeared in front of his face.

"No thanks!" he replied, trying to keep up with the city’s delegation that was turning a corner. The market of Rhoa was filled with fruits, some even Kamet, the favourite slave of the King’s nephew didn’t recognise. Some others he had only eaten at the court of Attolis, but even to there, some fruits didn’t keep well.

They continued on; past the speaker talking to a crowd, the men drinking some kind of tea and staring intently onto a board game Kamet wasn’t familiar with. Kamet would have thought the looming annexation of the Mede would leave some kind of indices, but life seemed to continue despite that.

A member of Rhoa’s city council welcomed them into the city proper, despaired over having to house yet another of the helpful foreign scholars, and was quite pleased by Kamet mentioning that him and Costis could be housed together.

The temple building in Rhoa was part of the large citadel, all under the council of the city. It had not been a fortress originally, and the old temple building stood outside the walls. It hadn’t been quite forgotten, but it had fallen in disrepair until the new high priest had opened the opisthodomos for the first time in decades, and had discovered long-forgotten scrolls dedicated to the deity.

The citadel had been built on the highest top of the mountain, and overlooked the entire plateau of Rhoa, and most of the bay between Mede and the smaller peninsula, and though it had strategic value, it’s harsh coastline with sparse ports was uninviting for the casual merchant and traveller. Rhoa, a city state, was governed by a city council.

Costis and Kamet were led across much of the town, passing the centre square and out of the city gates on the other side of the town, where they were welcomed by a stout woman not too much older than Costis.

"Welcome," she said with a not-quite full smile, and stared a little too long at Costis’ satchel. "I’m sorry, please excuse me— we’ve had more guests in the last weeks than in all the years before together, and I feel like the house is forever full. I am Hypathia, daugher of Theologos. The councillor said you would not mind to be housed together."

"My name is Costis," said Costis, "and you can call him Kay. And no, we don’t mind to sleep together."

That was more frank than Kamet was used to. In the back of his mind, he noted that Costis hadn’t actually lied, but he was much more distracted by the clearly unintentional double-entendre: He couldn’t look Hypathia in the eye.

Much more benevolently, Hypathia looked down their travel-worn clothes. "Well, in any case, I reckon you would like to freshen up before a meal." 

On the way to the bathhouse (because an estate this size surely had a bathhouse, if Kamet was any judge) Hypathia made idle conversation about Rhoa, and more specifically, the guests they were housing right now. She had a habit of stating her questions more than asking them, and her manner of speaking was elaborate.

The front of the house had seemed welcoming, more on the ostentatious side, too, but the walkways they passed were lived in, very beautiful. Passing the main building, the walls opened to a wonderful view of the ocean from the top of the cliff. The inner wall was decorated with some of the most filigree work Kamet had been presented heretofore — the entire outside wall showed a fresco of the Battle of Enoich.

And then they were inside of a bathhouse, and Kamet was at first distracted by getting the dirt of his body— they had gotten into the last rain shower early in the morning, and while he wasn’t damp any longer, it felt slightly damp nevertheless. But he was done with that quickly, and tried inspecting his surroundings with closer attention to detail; yet his eyes always came back to Costis, who had turned a dark golden hue on the mast. He wouldn’t have looked wrong in the temple of Kamia Shesmegah, and he was utterly distracting. Luckily, he was done soon, and they were introduced to the rest of the household.

***

Theologos was an open and friendly man, who had a library of some means, and that made him all right in Kamet’s book. He shared an avid interest in bees with Costis, which Kamet hadn’t known was of particular interest to anyone, but seemed important for agriculture.

Hypathia studied the stars. She had much to say about the recent find of the old scrolls in the temple; in that it was no wonder they got lost with the current mismanagement. Apparently, the last high priest had enriched himself on temple gold, and then fled to the Mede. It sounded outrageous, but the way Hypathia interspaced the telling with asides sounded true enough.

Hypathia was a gracious hostess, if not the most sociable one — she tended towards hiding in the library, much like Kamet who had to hide in the room he shared with Costis instead of disturbing her.

Theologos’ house was full, with a delegation from Mur that didn’t interact much with the scholars, and a lot of scholars from all over the peninsulas who had come to look at the religious documents the High Priest of Rhoa had found (and probably to spy on their allies, as Kamet suspected. The leading scholar of Braels had a suspicious military bearing. The Attolian had lost his own before boarding their ship, and came from the boat with a sailor-like swagger. It had been mesmerising to watch him.)

Costis went on the long walks required of one trying to acquire all the species of entomological creatures endemic to this part of Rhoa; and worst of all, he brought them home, and proceeded to get very excited about them. Kamet hadn’t known that there was a lapse bug enthusiast waiting in his Attolian, or else he would have thought twice about bringing him along. He had to admit, it made an excellent cover, though; as nobody suspected the bright-eyed bug-mad lunatic to be a spy for anyone. Kamet played the long-suffering scholar excellently, and while Theologos politely but firmly kicked out most of his other valued guests, Kamet and his Attolian could stay.  


Kamet didn’t need to see the clouds rolling in over the sea to know that there was a storm coming in, soon. The water turned that washed out blue, the air held that quivering sense of impending lightning, and the dog used to find the goats out on the mountains had crept underneath the table and was trying to become one with Kamet’s legs. So far, he wasn’t succeeding.

Costis was out on one of his daily excursions.

The dog snuffled and buried his nose further beneath Kamet’s sandals.

"I see Spots found someone to protect him from the storm."

Kamet turned around, and the lady of the house, Hypatia, smiled at him.

"Isn’t he the most beautiful coward?" she asked, and Kamet made an affirmative noise. He wasn’t too fond of dogs, but Spots was calm, cheerful, and didn’t mind laying still for hours across Kamet’s cold feet, whenever nobody else was home to entertain him.

"What I was going to ask originally—has Costis not come home yet? There’s a storm brewing."

Kamet looked out to the sea. He couldn’t make out the clouds, but the darkness of them was unmistakable. "He went out to gather some of his bugs," Kamet said. "And he hasn’t been back since."

Hypatia sighed. "Well, hopefully he’ll be back soon—the cliffs aren’t very stable during storms. Chalk, you know. He should really think about taking a local guide again. I know he doesn’t like how they talk about bugs, but it is safer, really."

Kamet didn’t know if that was supposed to be comforting in any way — it definitely wasn’t, but Hypatia was rather awkward in social situations, and would manage to drop the one brick in a league’s distance.

*** 

Costis opened the door to the private library of their host, the patronoi Theologos, quietly. He had just come from the bathhouse, so that the servants wouldn’t have reasons to bar him entrance again. There was a surprising amount of dirt one collected when hunting for bugs, and it showed on the marble floors something awful.

Kamet was sitting next to the window, transcribing one work or another — Costis could never be sure if it was work he brought home, or pleasure.

"Theologos asked me if you want to move into a bigger suite now that most of the other traders have moved on," Costis said, interrupting Kamet’s diligent study of the ancient manuscript.

"No." The reply was immediate, and Costis wasn’t even sure Kamet had heard the question right. Then, Kamet looked up. "What?" he asked.

"There’s less people now because the caravans moved out," Costis repeated the question patiently. "And now the quartermaster asked if we wanted any of the other rooms, before the new caravans are going to arrive. Apparently, there’s a nice one open next to the bathhouse."

Kamet carefully set aside his brush, so he wouldn’t drip all over the precious parchment. Then, he said, deliberately, "The bathhouses are very far from the library."

Costis grinned cheerfully, "Yes, that’s what I told him, too."

"What did he say?" Kamet asked.

"He laughed, and told me, how like a naturalist, to think of the work first. He also told me that the servants complained, because I was tracking mud through the hallways from the library to the bathhouse, and that I must be very dedicated to my craft." He paused for effect. "I told him that the paths around the keep were just awfully muddy."

Kamet looked at him passively.

"Come on, wasn’t that funny?" Costis poked him into the tiny bit of flab that had appeared during the long weeks at the palace with food being brought to him at regular hours, often more than he could have eaten alone.

Kamet kept his face still for a couple of seconds more, but then he couldn’t help but grin. It was a bit funny — Costis, the stupid barbarian, becoming a renown naturalist.

"Anyway, he let me take a look at it, and it’s not much bigger than this one,"

"No second bed?" Kamet asked.

"I don’t think you left them in any doubt as to our relationship," Costis said with a smile, and dropped his hands on Kamet’s shoulder. They were stiff from sitting in the same position for too long.

"Did you find anything useful?" Kamet asked, and then groaned as Costis dug in his fingers. "Ouch, that hurts," he protested. "Can’t you be a little gentler?"

Costis bent down and kissed his neck in apology. "I think someone is using the straight to smuggle something — but I haven’t found the quarry. I’m going to check it out tomorrow. Also, I found a bug."

"A nice one?" Kamet asked.

"It looks terrifying, and I don’t think the collection has anything like it. In other news, there was a newcomer at the library, and we got to talking — he was entirely baffled by the existence of cicadas, and had thought certain types of trees just started screaming at night."

Kamet laughed, and angled his face upwards so he could look Costis in the face. "Where’s he from— do you know?"

"I knew you’d ask that, and so I asked him: Apparently he’s from Braels."

Kamet hummed in thought. "It’s colder there, especially at night."

"Imagine the paradise," Costis said. "No cicadas at night — all nice and quiet. The perfect atmosphere for a nice picnic at night." He caressed Kamet’s neck, right at the beginning of his hairline, and Kamet shivered.

"A nice outing?" Kamet asked incredulous. "And what about the sand, and the mosquitoes… Hold on—" Kamet realised suddenly. "There’s smugglers out on the water? And you want to go check it out alone?"

Costis shrugged. "There are fireflies I need to categorise."

"What a nice excuse for the high priest," Kamet said.

"You wouldn’t want to come anyway."

Kamet eyed him suspiciously. "You are chatting me up, aren’t you— you want me to go with you! Well, I won’t have it. I refuse. I’d be stumbling along blind, and step on a scorpion, and then where would you be. No, you’re going to have to go alone."

They ate a quiet dinner in the kitchen where the cook was preparing tomorrows feast, and let them have some cold cuts and cheese. Then they retired to their cosy room right next to the library, and a long distance from anywhere else.

Kamet was ostensibly reading, but actually watched Costis pin his bugs. It was quite the extraordinary cover, as he could forage in the most unusal places and people wouldn’t question him. Hypathia thought him adorable, and so did the cook, only he was too polite to say.

"Are there maps in the library?" Costis asked abruptly.

"Not that I am aware of, no," Kamet answered. "But I am no expert on this library. You might get farther by asking our hostess yourself."

Costis was inspecting his leather satchel very intensely, and didn't look like he wanted to talk to Hypathia at all.

"Are you afraid of her?" Kamet asked, amused.

"No!" protested Costis immediately. It was the opposite of believable. "She's very--" he made a gesture with his hands that could have meant anything, but probably meant he was distracted by her body.

"Beautiful?" Kamet finished.

"No! I mean, yes, that too, but she reminds me of this statue in the new temple. It's -- disconcerting."

Ah, religion, then. It wasn't a topic Kamet had much interest in, but he supposed seeing an imposing stone statue come to life might be strange.

"Why do you need maps?" Kamet asked, bringing the conversation back to its start.

Costis continued emptying his satchel. This time he was thinking, not prevaricating. Finally, he said, "There was a merchant ship out on the bay today, too. There must be something of interest down at the foot of the cliff, otherwise why bother anchoring at the same spot? It’s the second time in as many days, and I could swear it was the very same ship."

"Was it the same time as yesterday? The current sometimes changes during the tides." Kamet commented, having learned so during their voyage to Rhoa. He remembered the complaints vividly.

Costis nodded, then shook his head. "It was very close to the coast, for no discernible reason. I asked around, there are no sandbankssurrounding the bay, it goes deep very fast. That's the reason for the high tide difference, too. We barely have high tides in Attolia."

"Do you think it's something else?"

"I haven't seen any other ships, except in the distance. There are plenty of fisher boats, but this is a small merchant vessel. I wonder if it's someone else pretending to be Braelian."

"The Mede?" Kamet asked "But they have no need for subterfuge when using merchant vessels."

"Exactly," Costis said with a grim face. Then he looked up at Kamet, and his brown eyes very shining with hidden glee. "Something fishy," he said.

Kamet looked at him incredulously. Then, he couldn't suppress the small giggle. He held his hand in front of his mouth, and looked away from Costis' crinkling eyes. "I'm going to -- the thing. Map, I'll ask if they have one," and then he left the room they were sharing.

When Costis left on another one of his bug-finding/spying on the bay-tours, Kamet packed his scrivening tools and went to the market. He winked off the offer of one of the servants to follow along, like he always did, but made sure to ask if he should bring something back.

He spent half a day arguing with the priest pressed into archival duties about releasing one of the bookkeeping inscriptions to Kamet’s eyes but ultimately failed as he had suspected— which was why he had not tried earlier. Then, on his way back, he went by the market.

The market was held daily, except Fridays, although not all mongers were present every day. Some farmers only came for one day a week, and some sold on their food for other people to sell. Some Kamet had taken a shine to, and so he stopped at the woman’s stand, who always asked after his Attolian.

"And how’s your boy?" she always asked after exchanging greetings, and so she didtoday.

He replied, just as he always did, with "He's good. He’s very excited about catching this bug."

She packed away the maracujas he had requested into a net for easier transport. "Something else to take along?"

He hesitated. "I haven’t had it in quite some time," he said finally, very quiet.

The woman leaned closer to him and smiled, "What can I help you with?"

Kamet hadn’t actually thought this far. What was something that was most definitely covered by the recent embargo, couldn’t be bought elsewhere, and would be probable to want? "Cinnamon," he said quickly, a little bit louder than the woman opposite. Quickly, he looked over his shoulder.

"Of course we have cinnamon!" the woman exclaimed, and then named a price not much over what he would have paid in Mede.

He paused again. "Wouldn’t it be more expense because of the—" he didn’t say anything, just waved his hand.

The woman, who he had liked before, but was now unsure of, laughed. "Don’t worry. There’s all sorts of stuff still passing the border in the usual way." She winked. "The only thing you’d want to be afraid of is the rising tide!"

He was on his way back, already thinking about talking with Costis, when he saw Costis’ leather satchel hanging on another stall. It was a similar one, at least, and not even disguised — just out there in the front, for everyone to see, if even Kamet could make it out clearly.

This didn’t seem like a one off incident. This was a conspiracy. A conspiracy against Attolia, perhaps, who believed the Mede were at least somewhat contained.

 

Costis was pretty certain it wasn’t a secret invasion, but he hadn’t thought to check if the ship had been laying deeper in water at some point. He didn’t seem worried about a conspiracy, and now that Kamet thought clearer on it, that had been a silly idea.

"Usually, if something is so universally accepted," Costis said, and pinned up another one of his strange bugs up. It was disgusting, and Kamet didn’t want to have them where he was sleeping. He had tried to put his foot down a couple of days ago, but one of the servants had found the tableau and woken the entire house up, so Kamet had reluctantly allowed him inside. "then, the reason is either free ale, money, or religion. And I wouldn’t know how either one could apply."

"Tariffs?" Kamet asked. "Tithes? A corrupt praetor? But then why only one ship a day?"

Costis licked one of his bugs, and Kamet shuddered. "Must you?" he asked.

"What?" Costis grinned at him, "I’m cataloguing them."

"Is it entirely necessary to lick them?"

Costis shrugged, still half-grinning. "The beekeeper said there were two different kinds, and one goes for the lavender."

Kamet grimaced. "Can’t you just smell it, then?"

The Attolian didn’t reply.

The next morning, after Costis left on his daily bug hunt, Kamet tried subtly hinting at Theologos about the general state of Rhoa, but failed. That was probably because Kamet had so far pretended to know nothing of the current political upheaval, which had suited him fine, but now the man was in all likelihood interpreting his questions in the context of the scrolls Kamet was transcribing. 

Kamet was getting antsy. What if it were the Mede who had created some kind of back channel way into Rhoa? And now Costis was out, wrestling a bear if Kamet knew him at all, probably getting imprisoned by a Mede admiral and interrogated— Kamet went to the kitchen.

He swept into the kitchen like it was his domain, as if he was back at Nahuseresh’s estate looking for the boy who spat in his soup. There was no position at Theologos’ home such as what he had been, but the authority worked all the same. 

"Where do you get your spices from?" He burst into the room.

The boy standing at the pot on the fire dropped the soup ladle. "The market?" one of them asked.

"You don’t go to the market for spices," Kamet said. "Do you?"

"No," the cook said. "Usually someone comes by and drops them off. What’s it to you?"

"Are you buying them from the Mede?"

"Surely there’s no need to terrify my kitchen staff," Hypathia said from behind. Kamet startled. "Why would you need to know."

Kamet blanched. What should he tell Hypathia who was by no means stupid? "My—Costis found something."

Hypathia’s suspicious face cleared up. "Ahh," she said only. "Your boy found the smuggling cave, and jumped to conclusions. Wrong ones, incidentally."

"Smuggling cave?" Kamet repeated.

"Yes." Hypathia gestured him to sit. "A long, time-honoured tradition in these parts. You might have noticed that the land on top of the cliff is barely worth anything, and doesn’t really produce enough food to last a village. We have always needed to supplement our own produce. And, you know," she gestures out to the water, "the sea is right there."

"From the Mede? Subverting the embargo—"

"No! Well, we used to, but Rhoa will suffer all the same if we let the Mede through. We have a contract with a little island of the coast," Hypathia explained. "It’s all very official. There are taxes on the loot."

"How do you keep a smuggling operation of that size hidden?" Kamet asked.

Hypathia smiled. "The entrance gets flooded during high tide— there’s only a short window of entrance every day."

And that’s when Kamet remembered his stupid Attolian, and how he would probably not realise the tide was coming in until he was— "When’s the high tide today?" he asked.

Hypathia looked out onto the water, then to the sun. "You might have an hour of low tide left," she stated. "But you’ll need a guide to get there. Your boy is out there, isn’t he?"

Kamet nodded.

"Lex, why don’t you lead him there."

And the kitchen boy who had dropped the ladle gestured towards Kamet, and they went out the door.

***

Kamet hurried down the rickety staircase. It had seen better times — the wood was washed slippery from the saltwater tide, and steps were missing. The tide was coming in, and if the kitchen boy was to be believed, the entrance would be impassable during high tide. He had stayed on top of the cliffside, looking out.

And there was the cave, it’s entrance slowly filling with the brackish water. "Costis?" Kamet called, and felt his heart beat in his rib cage.

There was some kind of noise in the back of the cave, and then Costis’ head emerged. "Guess what," he said. "No Mede."

Kamet let out a breath of relief, "I know," he said, "it’s smugglers."

Costis looked healthy and hale, and Kamet devoured him with his eyes. "Do you think this is for the common people?" he asked and held up a bottle of mead.

"I know for a fact that it’s for the common people," Kamet said, "and they’ll be really very upset if you discover this smuggling den that they have nothing at all to do with."

"We had official smuggling in Attolia," Costis mused, and Kamet knew that everything would be all right. Maybe the Annex could use a secret smuggling cave only passable by low tide in his plans, whatever they may be?

"We should leave, quickly," Kamet urged him on. 

"Why?" Costis asked, but he followed Kamet out, nevertheless. It couldn’t have been half an hour, but Kamet was wet to his knees climbing back to the stairs. 

"There’s a higher tide than in Cimorene, you idiot!"

"You are an idiot," Kamet told him, "and you aren’t allowed to leave again." Then, he grabbed Costis’ shoulders, and they were strong and comforting as always, and he planted a kiss on his split lips, irrespective of who was watching.

Costis who seemed to have more experience at this sort of thing, put his hand on Kamet’s waist and pulled him in. Another kiss followed the first. Kamet could taste the seawater, the blood from his split lip, and it was lovely, even lovelier than he had imagined, during those lonely nights at the palace, surrounded by people who spoke like Costis and dressed like Costis, and yet weren’t Costis. 

Costis opened his mouth, and suddenly the whole thing was even better, even though their teeth clicked together once. His mouth was warm and soothing, and seemed to be something Kamet desperately needed after all this excitement. That reminded him, "We should send out a letter to the King immediately."

Costis groaned, but the hand that had slowly wandered down to his behind didn’t let go, and, belying his words, held on tighter. "This is not the time when I want to be reminded of King or country," he said, but smiled. 

"Stop licking bugs, and I will stop reminding you of political matters," Kamet said, paused, added, "and geographical matters," and in return Costis kissed him again.

***

For some unfathomable reason, when they came back dripping wet and full of mud, they weren’t kicked out immediately, and were, in fact, allowed to stay, to the general amusement of Eugenides and his Master of Archives (who had never seen worse spies that worked so well). 

 


End file.
